Johanna Spyri - Heidi

When I was seven years old I had to flee from Austria, where I was born, and seek refuge in England.

I was lucky all my family escaped from Hitler but I was terribly homesick. Until then we had spent summer in the freedom of the mountains, and now I was in a crowded and dirty part of London, shut in by high walls.

Then one day my grandmother took me to the public library, and there on the shelf was Heidi. I pounced on it: the picture on the cover was of a young girl sitting in a flowerfilled meadow, inside were illustrations of rampaging goats, a hawk circling the high peaks I had read the book in German, now I had to learn English quickly so that I could read it again and when I had done so I felt a wonderful sense of homecoming. It was all there, everything I yearned for and remembered: the rocky peaks turned to rose when the sun went down, the neat wooden houses, the brilliant stars. And the sound of the wind in the fir trees, which will follow Heidi in her dreams wherever life will take her.

But of course it is not only the landscape that makes Heidi so rewarding. The book tells a robust and splendid story. It may have been written more than a hundred years ago but it has everything you could want from a book: a heroine who knows how to take joy when she finds it, but can endure hardship bravely when, for a time, it comes her way; a most satisfactory ogre her grandfather who like all the best ogres has a heart of gold; a boy who, in spite of his oddities, becomes her friend. The middle part of the book contains the best description of homesickness I have ever read and there are plenty of twists and surprises that propel the story forward to a happy ending, the kind of ending which doesnt shut like a trap but allows you to go on dreaming and speculating and wondering.

When the book was first published it was an instant success. Girls everywhere were christened Heidi. The book has been filmed again and again, it has been adapted for television, and has given birth to numerous sequels and no wonder, as children refuse to take leave of the characters they have learned to care about.

I dont think this great success is at all surprising. Heidi is about something that all of us understand and value: the love that people bear for their particular corner of the world a world made up of simple things: flowers and snow and wind; courage and friendship and thrift.

My family were not farmers or mountaineers: I have never in my life milked a goat or chopped wood to light my stove and I shudder to think what would happen if I tried to make cheese. But when I pick up Heidi to read it yet again, and travel with the heroine as she makes her first journey up the mountain, I know that Ive come home.

The pretty little Swiss town of Mayenfeld lies at the foot of a mountain range, whose grim rugged peaks tower high above the valley below. Behind the town a footpath winds gently up to the heights. The grass on the lower slopes is poor, but the air is fragrant with the scent of mountain flowers from the rich pasture land higher up.

One sunny June morning, a tall sturdy young woman was climbing up the path. She had a bundle in one hand and held a little girl about five years old by the other. The childs sunburnt cheeks were flushed, which was not surprising, for though the sun was hot she was wrapped up as though it was midwinter. It was difficult to see what she was like for she was wearing two frocks, one on top of the other, and had a large red scarf wound round and round her as well. She looked like some shapeless bundle of clothing trudging uphill on a pair of hobnailed boots.

After climbing for about an hour, they came to the little village of Drfli, half way up the mountain. This was the womans old home, and people called to her from their houses all the way up the street. She did not say much in reply but went on her way without stopping until she reached the last house. There a voice from within hailed her. Half a minute, Detie, it said, Ill come with you, if youre going any farther.

Detie stood still, but the little girl slipped her hand free and sat down on the ground.

Tired, Heidi? Detie asked her.

No, but Im very hot, the child replied.

Well soon be there. Just keep going, and see what long strides you can take, and well arrive in another hour.

At that moment a plump, pleasantfaced woman came out of the house and joined them. The little girl got up and followed as the two grownups went ahead, gossiping hard about people who lived in Drfli or round about.

Where are you going with the child, Detie? the village woman asked after a while. I suppose shes the orphan your sister left?

Thats right, Detie replied. Im taking her up to Uncle. Shell have to stay with him now.

What, stay with Uncle Alp on the mountain? You must be crazy! How can you think of such a thing? But of course hell soon send you about your business if you suggest that to him.

Why should he? Hes her grandfather and its high time he did something for her. Ive looked after her up to now, but I dont mind telling you, Im not going to turn down a good job like the one Ive just been offered, because of her. Her grandfather must do his duty.

If he were like other people that might be all right, retorted Barbie, but you know what he is. What does he know about looking after a child, and such a young one too? Shell never stand the life up there. Wheres this job youre after?

In Germany, said Detie. A wonderful job with a good family in Frankfurt. Last summer they stayed in the hotel at Ragaz where Ive been working as chambermaid. They had rooms on the floor I look after. They wanted to take me back with them then, but I couldnt get away. Now theyve come back and have asked me again. This time Im certainly going.

Well, Im glad Im not that poor child, said Barbie, throwing up her hands in dismay. Nobody really knows whats the matter with that old man, but he wont have anything to do with anybody, and he hasnt set foot in a church for years. When he does come down from the mountain, with his big stick in his hand and that doesnt happen often everybody scuttles out of his way. Theyre all scared stiff of him. He looks so wild with those bristling grey eyebrows and that dreadful beard. Hes not the sort of person one would want to meet alone on the mountain.

Thats as may be, but hes got to look after his grandchild now, and if she comes to any harm thatll be his fault, not mine.

I wonder what hes got on his conscience to make him live all alone up there, and hardly ever show his face, Barbie wondered. There are all sorts of rumours, but I expect you know the whole story. Your sister must have told you plenty about him, didnt she?

Yes, she did, but Im not telling. If he heard Id been talking about him, I should catch it all right.

But Barbie did not mean to lose this excellent opportunity of getting to know more about the old man. She came from Prttigau, farther down the valley, and had only lived in Drfli a short while, just since her marriage, so she still had much to learn about her neighbours. She was very anxious to know why the old man lived up on the mountain like a hermit, and why people were reluctant to talk about him as they did, freely enough, about everyone else. They didnt approve of him, that much was certain, but they seemed afraid to say anything against him. And then, why was he always called Uncle Alp? He couldnt be uncle to everyone in the village, but no one ever called him anything else, even Barbie used that name too. And here was her friend Detie, who was related to him and had lived all her life in Drfli, until a year ago. Then her mother had died, and she had found a good job in a big hotel at Ragaz. She had come from there that morning with Heidi, with the help of a lift on a hay cart as far as Mayenfeld.